Ravenous hunger for Sarah is making even Hoosiers nasty.

Hoosiers!

What's going on? Things move from good to bad so quickly, like Woodstock to Altamont. This could be the most beautiful evening...

Hoosiers line up early in the morning for a chance to see Sarah Palin at a Borders in the small city of Noblesville.

Here are the first 2 of the 1000 who got wristbands to allow them in this evening:

The line started last night at 9 PM.

More pictures like that, by Sam Riche, at the link.

Meanwhile, Fox News screws up by showing video from last year to illustrate a story about the crowds at her current book tour.

I throw some movie-related red meat to the lefties, and then to the righties.

I've got to tell you, I laughed like mad at the trailer for the new Michael Moore movie "Capitalism: A Love Story":



I will definitely see this movie. Annoying as I've found Michael Moore at times in the past, I love the light but stinging touch. Quite charming, if the trailer is accurate.

Okay, see? Sometimes I throw out red meat for the liberals.

Now, here's red meat for you righties. In the trailer at 1:40, we hear and then see George W. Bush and — even though I was in a theater in the lefty hotbed of Madison, Wisconsin — I leaned over to my seatmate (the estimable Meade) and said (loud enough to be heard): "I miss that guy."

***

The movie we were seeing was — as the previous post hints — "Inglourious Basterds." In "Chapter 2" of that film, when Brad Pitt first appeared, Meade now says — if he hadn't needed to maintain Hoosierly etiquette — he wanted to lean over to me and whisper "George W."

And it's true. Brad Pitt is kind of doing a George Bush impersonation. (Meade points to 0:30 in this trailer, when the character says "killin' Nazis.") Now, it's an awful accent, really. And I don't think it's a Tennessee accent, which is what we're told it is. Oddly, later in the movie, there's a whole thing about speaking Italian with a bad accent, and Pitt's is the worst of the bad accents, so maybe there — and throughout the movie — Quentin Tarantino intended to treat us to layer upon layer of joking.

"That's fried mush, baby! You're a Hoosier now."

1. Meade makes mush ... apropos of all that grits talk in the Whole Foods threads (1 & 2). And yes, we bought the corn meal mush at Whole Foods.

2. Enlarge for details — but don't think you'll be able read the papers. I've blurred out all the text.

3. To answer the question I'm sure is coming first: Yes, the bacon is Nueskes. And you can't buy that at Whole Foods.

4. Answer to that other question: Ate Berries in the Canaries.

5. Note the hinge defect. Unpropped, the thing lies flat. I've heard of the much-rumored Apple tablet, but the Air should not pretend to be one.

6. That stool is a Swopper. (Buy one: here.)

7. Popcorn.

Meade, talking to Texans.

Sitting in the outdoor café of our Ouray, Colorado hotel this morning, my husband Meade — who's very friendly (I call it "Hoosierly") with strangers — got into a conversation with a couple at the next table, and, naturally, one item of information exchanged was where we all are from. They were from Texas.

When we got up to leave, Meade leaned over to the man and said: "When you go back home, say hi to my favorite Texan."

"Who?"

"George W.!"

You should have seen the man's reaction. It was as if someone had suddenly sprayed water in his face.

ADDED: Later in the day, we got into a tour vehicle (a 4x4) for a ride up into the San Juan Mountains, and the lady in the seat in front of us started up a conversation, immediately volunteering that she was from Texas. Meade said, "That's great, but I need to be careful. I'm afraid I offended some Texans earlier this morning when I told them who my favorite Texan is." And she said, "Oh? And who is that?" And Meade, "Well, I like President Bush." "He's my favorite too!" she said, giving him a high five and getting her whole family to turn around and meet him.

Lunch at the Butterhorn Bakery & Cafe in Frisco.

Frisco, Colorado. Where I was seated under a picture of a fox and back-to-back with a tattooed lady.



We overheard the waitress talking about her birthday, and my not-quite-yet-husband subsequently wished her a happy birthday and said other Hoosierly things to her, leading her to advise me "He's a keeper." Indeed!

ADDED: Chip Ahoy animates not the tattoo, nor the batik of my shirt but...



... the fox.

"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single blogger in possession of a good vortex, must be in want of a husband."

From the comments on last night's post with Bob & Mickey commenting on Ann & Meade.

Sara said:

When Ann & Meade marry, that will make 9 couples I know or that I've had some online contact with who met online and got married.

Ann, if it helps with all the naysayers, the other 8 are all happy and three have been married more than 10 years now....

Theobromophile said:

Ditto to Sara. People meet online all the time. I know a bunch of eHarmony folks, and my mum met my stepdad on Match.com back in the '90s. At least a comment section of a blog presumes a common interest.

Yes, we need to make a big distinction between the on-line version of what was once the personal ads in the newspaper. I think what is getting attention in my case isn't that we "met on line," because that's not unusual at all. In fact, I don't even think it would get a reaction if 2 commenters got together. (Why not email a commenter you like? You might end up in love in real life.) What is stirring people up is that a blogger is marrying one of her commenters, perhaps especially where the blogger is the woman and the commenter is the man.

Hoosier Daddy said:

I met Mrs. Hoosier in a bar while we were in college. We did a couple of tequila shots together, danced to The Fine Young Cannibals got engaged and married two years later. It's been 18 years of wedded blitz ever since.

AJ Lynch said:

80-90% of married couples met in a bar. Many have trouble admitting it.

Hoosier Daddy said:

Not only do I admit it, I wear it as a badge of honor and distinction. We had a rockin good time, made out in the parking lot and 20 years later we're still together.

All those fairy tales about romantic hookups is bullshit. Two years later she's telling the judge what a cocksucker he is and she ends up with the house, car and is banging the pool boy.

Yeah, how are you supposed to meet somebody? What is the officially approved-of way?

Michael Hasenstab said:

Gosh, you youngsters and your interwebs, meeting online and all.

I'm so old school that I met my wife inline. We were lined up (in person, not via computer queue), waiting to get into the same place early one Saturday morning. We talked (in person, not via some electronic thingie, this was pre-email), exchanged names (using pen and paper, this was pre-PDA) and telephone numbers (to our home phones, this was pre-cellular).

One of us called the other, then the other called one of us a few days later. Then we met once and both explained why we had no, zero, nada, bupkus, zip, nunca intentions of marrying because we both greatly preferred the single life.

We met a second time and part way through that date fell in love and decided to marry as soon as practical. And we did. And decades later remain blissfully married.

When the sparks are ignited, the method or media doesn't matter. A great match is a great match, no matter how it was achieved.

And a few friends and relatives did ask "Does he/she know the guy/girl?" Their questions didn't matter. We already had the answer.

Ha ha. By the way, from my experience, I'd say that the conviction that singlehood is best and I'm never getting married is, oddly enough, breaks through to the shortest path to a decision to marry.

Peter hoh said:

I like the way that "commenter" sounds a bit like "commoner."

It sounds like something out of a Victorian comedy of manners. "She's marrying a commoner? Oh my!"

Paul Zrimsek said:

"She's marrying a commoner? Oh my!"

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single blogger in possession of a good vortex, must be in want of a husband.